


Too Many Teeth

by Sunband



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M, Other, Transformation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-30
Updated: 2014-12-30
Packaged: 2018-03-04 08:20:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3038552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sunband/pseuds/Sunband





	Too Many Teeth

In some ways, the days after the fall of the Archdemon were more troublesome for Alistair Theirin, King of Ferelden, than anything that had come before them. Fawning attendants trailed his heels closer than a cloak, the most petty details of rule demanded his constant attention, and at least three assassination attempts had already been made. Worse still, the Warden, his closest friend, was still in the throes of coma, showing no realization that she had become the most famous person in the entire kingdom. What little sleep he got was often in the lone chair of her needlessly extravagant bedchamber, watching her face for the smallest sign that she would wake up. There never were any.

He had awful nightmares when he slept in her presence, far worse than the ones that normally came with being a Gray Warden. They were as if each of his fears had been plucked from the crevices of his mind, engorged with spite and hate, and then sent back into his skull to do battle. He woke in a cold sweat every time, drenched as battle had ever left him, and twice as weak at the knees.

As devastating nightmares went, this one was quite tame. The Warden climbed out of bed as easily as if she had been taking a brief nap instead of slumbering for several weeks. Her matted blonde hair twitched in the faint breeze, obscuring part of her impish face, but not the bright orange eyes that burned into him. She blinked once, pupils stretching vertically until they were just black slits cut through fiery orbs. The Warden, the person he trusted most in the world, smiled at him, a smile full of razor sharp teeth. Alistair Theirin, King of Ferelden, nearly pissed.

“Just who I wanted to see,” his nightmare said to him, teeth gnashing as she spoke. The dream-warden's voice resonated inside his head like darkspawns' did, wordless screams that penetrated the very core of his existence. “You have something I need.”

Alistair opened his mouth to joke. To protest. To point out that those words were hardly the the ones that should be said to a friend who had been worried half to death about her. He could not though. He never could in his dreams.

“It won't take long, I swear,” the Warden said, still smiling sharply at him. Alistair tried to stand as she swung her legs out of bed, tried to help his nightmare to her feet out of sheer misguided instinct. He could not move at all.

“There's just one little thing in the way.” Alistair's breeches tore like paper under the black claws that now tipped the Warden's fingers, exposing his crotch to the dry, cold air, and her warm, wet breath. As his penis stirred, he finally admitted the obvious: he was not sleeping. 

“Don't move,” she ordered, in the same stern voice she used to direct him in battle. “I don't want you to hurt yourself.” The feeling of a single frigid claw rubbed against his cock, just firmly enough that he could feel the point dig in a tiny bit, was enough to dissuade him. His penis stiffened slowly and entirely against his will, until it was the hardest it had ever been. She locked eyes with him, something screeched deep inside his head again, and he had to look away again. “After all, this is mine.”

The next thing Alistair felt was the warm wetness of a tongue, first against the underside of his cock, and then against the tip, and finally wrapping inexorably around it like a snake coiling around its prey. It was the first time he had ever felt anything so impossibly good. The Warden's lips finally closed around the base of his dick, and ever so slowly, her tongue constricted tighter and tighter around it. 

Alistair Theirin, King of Ferelden, groaned in mind numbing pleasure so loudly that half the castle probably heard it. His mind was too fuzzy to think about such things though. It was even too fuzzy to think about the changes that the Warden had suffered. The entirety of his existence felt like it had been concentrated in his crotch, ready to pour out of him at a moment's notice.

The lips that had been locked tightly around him parted ever so slightly, and the warm sticky feeling spread from from his cock's base to each of his balls in turn, finally settling on gentle pressure around them both. Alistair came so hard that it hurt. His testicles felt like they were going to pop with each spurt of cum, and each jerk of his penis pressed it uncomfortable hard against razor sharp teeth. He didn't dare move though. He didn't dare do anything until it was allowed. 

“That tasted better than I thought it would.” The tight pressure and sharp teeth were finally removed from his most sensitive spots, which he took as permission to finally look at the Warden again, hoping that he had managed to simply hallucinate the inhuman changes. 

He hadn't. The only thing that was different about the short hero now was that now there was a thick string of his cum on her cheek, and another one dripping off the tip of her nose. Alistair watched in mute disbelief as she gathered each up on her fingers and licked them before her snaking tongue retracted back into her mouth again.

“I'll be back in a week,” the Warden said before burping softly. “I'll want more energy. You're gonna find me suitable sources.” She gave him a smile that had once been cheerful and mischievous, but now just looked malicious. “I'll bite your dick off if you don't.”

With that, she reached up to pat his head, burped again, and walked right out the door. Alistair wanted to cry for three different reasons.


End file.
